


Here Tonight

by myscribblingquill



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Half-Nakedness, Sleepiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 09:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11483535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myscribblingquill/pseuds/myscribblingquill
Summary: Rosaline wants to sleep, but when her neighbour is parading around without his shirt in, she can't shut her eyes without seeing the image of his chest.





	Here Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from One Less Bird by Silver Trees, which has absolutely no relevance to this fic, I just like the song!

Her feet hurt, her back aches and all Rosaline wants to do when she gets home is collapse on her bed. There’s clothes flung over her chair, paper all over her desk and an overflowing laundry basket but she couldn’t care less. 

Her bed is soft and waiting for her as she lets herself fall face first onto it.

She hasn’t taken off her shoes, feet hanging over the edge of the bed. Her bag is still wound around her arm. 

After a few moments of blissful horizontal-ness, Rosaline’s brain starts to function again. Her eyes are still bleary from tiredness, and the blister on her foot hurts likes hell, but she pushes up from the bed.

She shucks her shoes off, quickly changing in comfortable clothes that she can sleep in. The light from outside catches her eye through the open curtains and Rosaline groans. 

She forgot to shut her curtains this morning.

The light blazing through means that the occupants on the next door house are home and their lights are on and Rosaline has to get up and shut the curtains.

She groans again.

For starters the curtains are too far away. They’re the other side of her room, so far from her comfy bed and across far too much floor. The distance to the curtains really wouldn’t be that much of a problem if she didn’t know what she’d be faced with when she got there.

She gets up from the bed. Taking a miniscule step towards the window, she sighs and then strides over. She tugs one side shut first, then reaches for the other, keeping her eyes averted the whole time.

Then she slips.

Her hands cling onto the curtains, and her eyes dart to what she had purposefully be avoiding.

Benvolio Montague, walking around his room with no shirt, just a pair of very low hung pants.

There’s no way she would have looked if she hadn’t slipped, she tells herself. That doesn’t stop her once she has though. If she’s already seen then what’s the point in looking away. Rosaline ignores the fact that she’s seen him naked before. That he’s been naked in her bed before, and he’s seen her just as unclothed.

He’s sat at his desk, pencil in hand, from what Rosaline can tell. All she can see if the expanse of his chest moving as she breathes, how he bites his lip and changes the angle of his head as he draws. Rosaline thinks of how he’s seen him do all those things before but not at his desk, in her bed as they stared down at each other.

She shakes her head, willing the memories away, and then he stands up.

He’s completely unaware that she’s watching him, that she can see him from her window. Rosaline thinks to herself that she should turn away, she should stop looking out the window, as he potters around his room. 

There’s a pencil tucked behind his ear. Rosaline recognises his pants, they’re ones she threw across the room not three days ago. Her heartbeat picks up as she remembers the encounter. As he turns towards the window Rosaline remembers that she spying. She’s watching the Montague as he walks around with no shirt on, and if he found out, she’d never hear the end of it.

Images of a very naked Benvolio swirling around her head, Rosaline tugs the curtains fully shut, making sure the overlap enough for all the light to be blocked out.

She settles into her bed and shuts her eyes. 

The images of Benvolio don’t leave though. They’re still there, almost tormenting her. After what feels like hours Rosaline’s frustration builds up and her anger is all directed at Benvolio. If he hadn’t been walking around with his curtains open, then she wouldn’t have a problem. Her tired mind would shut down and she would be sleeping by now.

But she’s not.

Instead she’s wide awake, thinking about the breathy groans he made as she kissed his chest.

There’s no point in her staying in bed when all she’s doing is thinking about Benvolio naked. So she gets up. Her book has been rather neglected and she was planning on making a start on it over the weekend. A few pages in and she’s still struggling to concentrate. 

Her eyes keep slipping to the window. Although the curtains are shut there’s still a slither of light peaking in. 

It means Benvolio is still up and likely still walking around his room. Plus it means Rosaline needs to shut her curtains again.

After a chapter of reading every sentence twice, Rosaline gets up and goes over to the window. She opens the curtain, purely with the intent of closing it again, and he’s still there.

Not at his desk drawing anymore, but sprawled out on his bed, a book pressed to his chest. Rosaline knows that if he doesn’t put a shirt on there’s no way she’s getting to sleep tonight, and as he’s unlikely to put one on voluntarily she’s going to have to make him.

She all but stumbles out of her room, the bright light burning her eyes as she gropes her way down the stairs. The rest of the house is quiet, Isabella and Juliet probably asleep or near enough.

Rosaline makes sure to shut the door quietly behind her. She’s not angry with her housemates, she is angry with the Montague so she bangs on their door.. Loudly and repetitively until the door swings open.

“You better not be here for a booty call,” Mercutio isn’t wearing a shit either, but unsurprisingly that doesn’t affect Rosaline.

She storms to the back of the house and bangs twice on Benvolio’s door.

When he doesn’t answer she flings the door open. 

The abrupt opening of his door, and the presence of a very angry Rosaline, starles Benvolio off his bed and onto the floor. He yanks his headphones out of his ears, and rights himself.

A small part of Rosaline’s brain registers the fall onto the floor, and Benvolio’s very bewildered expression, but that larger part is focus on his very naked chest.

“For gods sake Montague,” she yells and grabs a shirt from the pile on a chair, “Put a shirt on,” She flings the shirt at him and turns on her heel.

“Rosaline, what?” Ben tugs the shirt over his head na follows her out the door.

Rosaline doesn’t pay him any attention. All she wants is to get back to her bed and not dream of a naked Benvolio. 

She stops her exit from the Montague house when Benvolio tugs her arm.

“Why exactly are you flings shirts at me,” He pauses, “At one am?”

“Because Montague,” She points a finger at his now, thankfully, clothed chest, “You keep walking around without a shirt on, and it’s very very distracting.”

A smile lights up Benvolio’s face as he figures out exactly what caused her anger. “Oh, so you can see me from your window?”

“Yes, Montague,” Rosaline takes a step backwards, towards the door, “I happened to catch a glimpse of you parading around with almost no clothes on.”

“A glimpse, huh?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, a glimpse. I don’t actively try to see you naked.”

“But you did find the sight,” He pauses and raises a finger to his lips, “What did you say?” A smile creeps over his face, again, “Distracting.”

Rosaline rolls her eyes, “I didn’t want to go to bed knowing that you could catch a cold. You’re the only semi-sensible person in this house and I don’t want neighbours that forget to put the trash out.”

“Hmf,” Benvolio folds his arms over his chest and for a moment Rosaline mourns the sight that would have been if she hadn’t throw a shirt at his face.

“Now, I am going to bed,” She spins on her heel and marches out of the house.

“Oh, Capulet, if you ever want to see me naked don’t forget to let me know. I’m quite immune to colds,” Benvolio calls out as he shuts the door behind her.

When she makes it back to her bed, Rosaline manages to drift off to sleep. Her dreams are littered with images of Benvolio, both with and without his shirt. 

She manages to put off taking up his offer for the whole weekend, but then she drops in after work and makes sure to memorise the exact image of his chest with her lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Say hi on [tumblr](https://willsdarcy.tumblr.com)


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